


though i'm not yet gone, i'm still not here

by betaot4



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Post-Scratch (Homestuck), Rose makes a cameo, Time Travel, listen to vanilla twilight while reading for peak nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betaot4/pseuds/betaot4
Summary: Someone by the name of John keeps washing up on the shore of Dave's memory, so he writes a letter and sends it.





	though i'm not yet gone, i'm still not here

**Author's Note:**

> "I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead— but I still want to comfort and take care of you— and I want you to love me and care for me."
> 
> — Richard Feynman, from a letter to his late wife, Arline Feynman (October 17, 1946)

On April 13th, 2409, Dave Strider awoke from a tumultuous sleep, back aching and mind restless. Today was the day that, four hundred years ago, all life went missing from the universe, leaving in its wake a myriad of divinity and planetary waste. No one could detail exactly what happened on April 13th, 2009. Despite being there, the day seemed an estranged childhood memory to Dave, like stumbling upon a long lost friend in the grocery store, and suddenly you can’t smell oranges without remembering all the things you should’ve said but never did.

Stirred by the sound of running water, Dave’s companion, a stately woman named Rose Lalonde, began to awake from her own dreamland. An inkling of sunlight began to stretch its writhing tendrils through the windowpane but the sky was still dark enough to go back to sleep. Rose did not question what Dave was doing up at this hour, for she knew the date and the emotions that orbited around it. Everything orbited around it, like the darkest sun imaginable.

There was only one person Dave wanted to call upon: someone who’s birthday it might’ve been, and who was not dead, perhaps just asleep waiting to be revitalized by fate again.

Entranced, Dave sat down at his desk and began to write:

_To John, my dearest and most beloved friend—_

_I don’t know how else to start this other than saying I miss you. I couldn’t sleep without writing this out, so here goes:_

_There has never been a time or place where I haven’t felt your presence. I moved out to New York City a few months ago. Yesterday when Rose and I took a ferry out a bit past the coastline I could hear you whispering to me as the breeze hit my face. Of course, you weren’t actually there, because I don’t even know if you exist. But I have never felt more connected to you than I did in that moment._

_I’m not sure why, but even though I know next to nothing about you, the absence of your physicality in my life makes me feel significantly empty. The missing piece grows more immense with every new fact I remember about you. I could almost remember the way your laugh sounded out on the top of my apartment last night. Almost. I expected you to descend from the clouds in blue pajamas and invite me back to wherever you rest eternally._

_Both of us have lived a thousand lives before this one. That I’m sure of. Rose and Jade too. Whether this timeline blends in with all the others or is something of significance, I don’t know. But if we’ve waited before we can wait again. I’d die a thousand times before meeting you if I knew it meant marrying you in the next life. My love for you parallels our foundation: noble, ancient, and God-like._

_I remembered your address today. I’m not sure why I could recall that so clearly when I don’t even know your last name._

_If you somehow get this, write back._

_Indefinitely,  
Dave_

On April 13th, 2049, Dave Strider licked a seam, stuck a stamp, and mailed a letter. 

He never expected to receive one back. 

Delivered by a non-existent postal service, the envelope was stained, and a bit tattered. The date read April 13th, 1939.

_Dave—_

_I’ve been waiting for you to write back! For too long I’ve been wondering where you are and what you’ve gotten yourself into these days. I must’ve sent five letters before this one. Even when you couldn’t respond it still felt nice to talk to you. I see you’re in New York City now? And have found Rose? Tell her I say hello!_

_Strangely, now that I know you’ll be reading this, I can’t seem to find the right words to say. You were honest in your letter so I guess I will be too. Sorry I’m not as great of a wordsmith as I remember you being. I can’t write infinite poetry about the depths of my longing but know that it lives in every single letter’s curve and line._

_I can’t recall the first time I remembered you. The memories came gradually and in waves, like when the pesky old crows started following me to work in the morning, or when Dad bought me a cold cider from the market on my twenty-first birthday. The taste made me think of you and I couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. The littlest things would remind me of stupid things you had said and I would laugh even though I couldn’t remember the words. We were dumb back then, or we will be dumb in the future— at this point I’m not sure what’s real or just a figment of my imagination. One thing I do remember about you is the grip you had on time. Maybe I need you around to help me with my deadlines at work, heh._

_I hope all of this makes sense to you. When you didn’t respond to my previous letters I was about convinced that I had made you up in my head. Good thing you wrote before I admitted myself into the insane asylum._

_It’s funny, now that I know you are real I’ve been thinking of all the things I’d like to do with you if we ever met. There’s a watchsmith’s shop in the city with the most intricate grandfather clocks that I would bring you to if you ever came to Seattle. I think you’d like that. And now that the bars have opened up again there’s so much dancing and fun to be had on an evening in the streets. Money’s tight here, but I’ve been saving up to buy myself a nice camera. I’ll take a self portrait and include it in my next letter. If you come visit I’ll let you use the camera, and you can photograph the skyline and the birds and the like._

_I’d love nothing more than to see your face and hear you laugh in person again. If you receive this, please write back soon._

_All of my love, forever,  
John_

Dave held the dated paper close to his chest. He wished the best upon the John who lived in 1939, stowed the letter in a desk drawer, and offered no further complaint, for both Dave and Rose would be dead by morning.

—

Four-hundred years earlier, a young Dave Strider would wake from a deep slumber full of fantastical adventure through peregrine kingdoms with no knowledge of the future exchange with John that would gifted to him by the stars. Raising his arms to salute the sun, this Dave wondered if his best friend had received his package yet. The universe continued to whirr, indifferent.

**Author's Note:**

> "i'm so random. i can't believe i just did that"  
> -sburb
> 
> yeahh this was ooc


End file.
